


The Applicant

by fishtale



Series: The Heir to the Throne [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha Clarke, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Artist Clarke, F/F, G!P, G!P Clarke, Omega Lexa, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7861285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishtale/pseuds/fishtale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa wants to try to have a baby, but wants to do so without having to be anyone's mate. She seeks help through an ad to find the best applicant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Applicant

Sat in an underwhelming Italian restaurant, overpriced because it was downtown, Lexa stared at her watch (its band turned so the face rested on the inner part of her wrist) for the fifth time in as many minutes. The prospect—Clarke—was running several minutes late. It was probably a bad sign.

This was probably an awful idea.

She drew in a steady breath from semi-parted lips and looked, again, over Clarke’s application. Full name, age, up-to-date health statistics, a small paragraph about herself…and her photo, paper-clipped to the top right corner of the page. She was good-looking. With bright eyes and hair. With a charming smirk that reached her eyes in a way Lexa couldn’t pinpoint. It was almost mischievous.

And good-looking was— _good._ If she absolutely _had_ to mate with an alpha woman, then at least this was a very stunning one. She felt her jaw clench as she tried to swallow. She supposed it was good.

 _Plus_ the young woman was brilliant. A biology major in her senior year with a perfect GPA; regularly at the head of the Dean’s list, future valedictorian of UC Berkeley, and on her way to the ivy league for med school.

— _Great bone structure_.

There was a hitch in her line of thought and a similar one lodged a little in her throat.

_Forget that. Completely._

_Why am I even—having thoughts like this? It’s better that she’s attractive, sure, but that doesn’t—doesn’t guarantee anything. This is a logical decision. I have to make the best choice for myself, and my future little heir._

She was adamant that her emotions shouldn’t register in who her choice should be. She’d talked this over quite a few times with her father, Titus Woods, who was the only member of her family fully supporting this… _attempt_ ; this plan.

It should be a logical decision, if it was going to work. A selection based on concrete reasoning.

Because, in the end, all her hopes were riding on it.

And this girl might be smart and pretty but—she was also quite tardy.

_Though she clearly had a penchant for timing._

“Sorry!”

Her entrance was brash. Smiley and energetic.

“Class ran later than it normally does because everyone got all passionate about Gustav Klimt.”

Lexa frowned, shaking her head a bit to clear it, “That’s—um—isn’t that an artist?”

Clarke nodded, enthusiastically, “I love his work.”

“You’re a Biology major.”

“Pshhh,” Clarke’s lips pursed, a desultory breath leaking slowly out of her mouth as she sat down across Lexa, “That’s—yeah—I had to quit that. I mean…I wrote it down because, at the time, it was still true. But I’m not anymore. I switched my major to Fine Arts. And my mom hates me for it. She did what I knew she’d do. Cut me right off. She says she’s not wasting her money so I can throw my future away and I guess if I hadn’t seen your ad on my broke college kids app she’d be pretty right about that. But I did. And…I did sort of put Biology down as my major because I knew being a future doctor sounds good on paper and you’d be more likely to call me for an interview. Sorry about that. I only lied to get my foot in the door with you.”

Clarke’s stare was intent; almost willfully sincere.

Lexa’s mouth fell open an inch, thinking back at the blonde _after_ lying _you want to wax benevolent and honest?_ She bit her lip so as not to snort. This girl must be mad.

She wasn’t the one.

_This is why there are interviews. Thank god._

“I’m not picking you,” she deadpanned; eyes glancing at her phone to see if there was time to call one of the runner ups.

Not without being impolite.

An affronted frown creased the skin between Clarke’s brows, a pout pulling her bottom lip and making it even… more—Lexa’s thoughts cut off with a sharp sudden screech; focusing back on Clarke’s dialogue, _“What?_ From front-runner to next just because of a change in my future career field? How does that even affect the baby whose life I’d have no say or part in anyway as per your extensive instructions?”

Lexa shrugged, “I’m rejecting you for a lot of reasons.”

She looked over Clarke’s demeanor—hair up in a messy bun, paint-streaked overalls over a tight white tee (her eyes caressed her here but then—) old converse ripped in too many places, and a look of general carelessness.

Lexa’s disdain must’ve been written at least partially on her face.

“Fine,” Clarke pouted again, but good-naturedly, “It’s up to you. You shouldn’t have to mate with me if you don’t want to. Especially since the deal includes a mini-me in your womb for the next nine months and then their whole life after that once they pop out so—you know, totally your choice. But do you mind if we still have dinner? I’m _starving_. Skipped breakfast.”

Lexa sighed; taking a second before nodding, “You shouldn’t skip breakfast, Clarke.”

_Reason number 94 why I would never pick Clarke Griffin. Breakfast skipper. Probably swims after she eats, too. Probably runs with scissors._

_Not an ideal sire. A sub-par alpha for sure._

…

…

“So like—” Clarke finally gave her lasagna a break; putting her fork down with a _clang_ on her plate, “Why’d you pick the old-fashioned way anyway? If you don’t mind me asking? I know some omegas have trouble getting pregnant other ways. But then—maybe you just want the intimacy of doing it…you know…not in a doctor’s office, with a syringe pointed at you, sitting on top of a roll of hygienic paper?”

She looked over Lexa’s impassive face before chuckling, “Okay—scratch that last bit about the intimacy.”

Lexa nearly smiled at Clarke’s joke before catching herself. She looked down at her uneaten pasta; moving it across her plate with her fork, “I’ve tried a few times. With three different doctors—all greatly recommended; considered experts. I failed each time. This is…the last thing I’m going to try. It’s very important to me. I’ve always wanted to be a mother.”

Her eyes grew unfocused. Clarke stared intensely into them. They were glazed over—emerald under a sheen of silver. Lexa spoke in a halting, nearly vulnerable way; voice low but steady.

“I just really want to start a family. I want…a baby. Someone to share what I’ve built with. Someone to take care of. Someone to teach. Someone to pass everything down to. I worked hard for the life I’ve built and I’m satisfied with nearly every aspect of it and—it’s just the perfect time. I don’t like to wait, once I’ve decided on something.”

“Not even for a mate?” Clarke interrupted; her face screwing up in thought, “Doesn’t that generally come before thoughts of starting a family?”

“No,” Lexa’s voice was low but firm, “Not for me.”

The omega’s inscrutable face and shining eyes had Clarke hypnotized. She wondered if the stoic woman could tell her scent was changing subtly (but _definitely,_ and had been for a few minutes already). Growing far heavier in the air. Still sweet but now with a sudden hint of something dark. Clarke could taste it in her throat. She could swallow it. She slid her chair back a little and pulled at her shirt’s collar all the way from left to right to cool off; watching Lexa squirm in her seat.

“So, Clarke,” her voice clicked noticeably over the _k_ in Clarke’s name, “Why quit Biology your last year? Seems dumb honestly, especially in favor of such a risky major.”

Clarke cleared her throat politely into her fist. She wasn’t _in_ the conversation enough to feel affronted by Lexa’s bluntness. At this point, anything the pretty-eyed brunette did was fascinating. There was no way to fight it. She could already feel the wild pulsing of her clit as blood pumped into it. It was already swelling out of its hood. Growing, slowly and maddeningly, in response to the heady pheromones that she could almost _taste_ coming from Lexa. Blood was beating hard in her center—it was bulging up so fast that it was making her lightheaded.

She’d kill, just to have Lexa pass her _eyes_ over it.

Once she could finally speak, her voice was raspier than usual; choking clumsily on her arousal. She could hardly even remember the plot of their conversation, “I…I was just tired of being pushed into everything. I went home for…for break and my mom had already bought MCAT study guides. She already had _grad school brochures_ out for me. The only thing that made me happy, or made any sense was when I was hunched over a sketch pad so I said, you know—f- _fuck_ it.”

Clarke stammered a bit, then shut up. Lexa’s green eyes were blown suddenly. Her breath was coming in quicker—Clarke could see the way it made her modest chest fall and rise.

There was no way the girl still didn’t notice it.

And just as Clarke thought it, Lexa’s dazed glare began to gain focus.

“Clarke,” she spoke, her throat bobbing, “I’m—my heat—”

Clarke nodded; pressure hammering up her erection, “Yeah—you’re in heat.”

It was just stating the obvious really, but Lexa appeared crestfallen; her gaze going in all directions, “I’m never early. I’m—I’m a _month_ early. How—”

Clarke shrugged, “Happens. I guess. I don’t—from _experience_ know, obviously. I’m just…trying to make it better for you but I…probably can’t so—maybe I’ll try to shut up finally.”

But Lexa was shaking her head, near tears, “I’m not waiting another season to do this.”

Clarke’s heart fell to her stomach (there was already too much pressure there, and now to add the sympathy she felt was almost too much). She said “I’m sorry” and reached a hand for Lexa’s; squeezing once she felt it tremble.

Green eyes shot up at the contact.

It was the last time that night that they wouldn’t be eclipsed by black pupils.

“I’m going to ask for the check, Clarke,” she said (and Clarke felt each syllable like a hot stroke over the aching point of her erection), “And you—you have to drive me home. And give me this baby _now_.”

Clarke gaped. It took her a second to think and—there was only one reason to hesitate. She had to make sure.

“You’re um—you’re sure, Lexa? Because before it was all: ‘I hereby openly reject you Clarke’ and now—you’re in heat and I mean that’s not to say an omega in heat can’t make their own decisions obviously, but I mean…seems like maybe you should take a second to, you know, be…sure.”

“Clarke—I hereby openly accept you. I choose you. Okay? I want this with you.”

Clarke nodded haltingly, smiling dumbly. Trying not to stretch her luck. Her brow quirked up.

_Is this…really happening? Am I really gonna—?_

...

“Oh _please_ , Clarke!”

Cut to Clarke driving them back to Lexa’s in the woman’s black Mercedes; one hand on the steering wheel, the other up Lexa’s dress, fingers pointed downwards, up against her center.

 _This_ was happening faster than she’d thought.

Lexa’s panties had long since been pushed to the side as Clarke played with her slick labia; sliding wet fingers up to swirl over her clit. She rubbed the wetness fast over the aching nerves and it had Lexa’s thighs trembling under her seatbelt; her hands grasping for Clarke’s forearm as she whined and humped desperately up against her palm.

“You _like_ that Lexa?” Clarke whispered. She couldn’t believe it when Lexa had tugged at her wrist, pulling her right hand off the steering wheel up her dress and to her soaking slit; jerking her hips up into Clarke’s touch. Clarke immediately latched on; gripping it like it belonged to her; a surge of power and possession sliding hot up her spine and center.

She was feeling more alpha by the minute. There was something that really got to her—about the way Lexa had taken her hand and pushed it right onto where she needed it. Lots of omegas had acted wanton with her before and she had a fair amount of experience but things had never been so intense. She’d never felt this hot, or out of control. Even on drunken nights out; tasting sin and liquor on some strange omega’s lips and dragging them back home to push into them like she were in her first rut—nothing; nothing that had ever happened to her had made her hotter than this, right now.

She was trying to drive well. Trying to focus. But she kept stealing glances at Lexa with her pretty back arched in pleasure to form a perfect bow. Blown green eyes had grown watery, Clarke noted, and she could no longer hold her whimpering down in her throat like Clarke could no longer hold back pushing inside her. Two of her fingers slid past the tight ring of Lexa’s entrance as fluttering muscles sucked her in.

 _God_ was Lexa wet. God was she tight. God was she warm.

It made her _fingers_ tingle—so her cock? Clarke could only imagine. She closed her eyes as it pounded hard in her overalls, thinking _I’m knotting this tonight_ as her fingers pumped in and out; curling to stroke over Lexa’s ridged, spongy spot. _Fuck._

Pre-cum leaked out of her dickhead like a sieve, running down her shaft and even splashing over her thighs.

_My god. I’m so—hard._

…

…

Lexa screamed as she exploded; grabbing for Clarke’s wrist and flooding the fingers that pumped and curled into her. Her walls collapsed on them as she came on a three-wave orgasm; shaking.

Her heat made her so sensitive. So wanton. And she’d always cursed it for that. Now that Clarke was here it didn’t seem so—bad.

Her eyes slipped closed. She really _was_ aching for this— _for_ —a flash of blonde hair and cobalt eyes danced behind her eyelids before they fluttered open again. She chanced a glance out of the window, relieved to see there were no other cars near them.

Although, being honest with herself, she wouldn’t have stopped even _if_ there’d been a pair of eyes on them from some unintentional voyeur driving parallel to their escapades. Lexa was coming so desperately humping this strange girl’s hand she didn’t think there was very much that _could_ stop her. Like her orgasm, she couldn’t help but keep going. And with the same punishing rhythm she’d soon be riding Clarke’s dick. Getting even more pleasure out of the alpha currently in her power.

The thought coiled hot in her center.

She turned her gaze on Clarke—blonde hair in an even messier bun, eyes bright blue; bringing her own wet fingers up to her nose before licking Lexa off her knuckles.

…

…

When Lexa finally reached for her cock over the rough denim of her overalls Clarke got so excited she started to swerve. Lexa kept grabbing at it in segments, as if to gauge its size; an idea that had Clarke smirking smugly and rutting up into the girl’s hand in hopes she was starting to get the picture. Her little moans were too much.

“Take it out.”

Clarke’s voice felt like gravel coming up her throat. It’d never been that heavy in her own mouth before.

She sort of liked the way it made Lexa’s breathing hitch in her throat, which bobbed beneath the golden, graceful column of her neck.

“Come on, Lexa.”

Lexa’s hands were careful as they unclipped the buckles on Clarke’s paint-smeared overalls and tugged them down below her waist; exposing Clarke’s boxers and digging into its open crotch.

Clarke couldn’t help the growl barreling up her chest at the feel of soft, warm palms grabbing her stiff erection. She chanced a glance down at herself with Lexa’s pretty hands wrapped around her. She couldn’t help smiling.

…

…

Lexa was trying to hold it in her hands (like an omega that had some experience with this sort of thing) and take it all in. She might have never been with an alpha before but she knew basic anatomy—Clarke was big. Not so outrageous in length, but stretching towards the definition when it came to thickness. Maybe that’s why Clarke seemed to drip so much pre-cum—at least she was thoughtful.

“What do you think?” Clarke’s low voice hit her hard, tinged with just the right amount of huskiness, “Is it okay?”

There was a certain smugness to the question that had Lexa rolling her eyes. What the girl wanted to hear was probably: ‘Oh my _god_ , Clarke, you’re so big—I don’t know if I can take you; you’ll break me.’ And while the essence of the sentiment was true, there was no way she was saying something like that to some smirking alpha waiting for a pat on the head just for being blessed in one department.

She said, “It’s okay.”

“ _Just_ okay?”

Lexa nodded, “I mean it’s fine I guess.”

Clarke gaped down at herself as if she were suddenly questioning all her deepest beliefs, “So it’s…more or less like…like the other alphas you’ve been with?”

The omega’s plump lips twitched into a smirk, she started massaging Clarke’s cock with her right hand; squinting at it like she were regarding it clinically, “Yeah. More or less.”

She finally relented at Clarke’s small pout; applying a firmer grip around the girl’s erection, “Maybe a little more.”

Her heart raced at the way Clarke whined when she did it, at the way she squirmed in her seat. She watched the translucent bead of pre-cum that rose at the action, oddly transfixed by it. She wondered how Clarke would react when it was something else.

Despite herself (and it could very well be this strangely intense heat guiding her actions but—) she found herself smiling fondly at the way Clarke’s delicate face pulled into a scrunched up grimace at the amount of pleasure she was giving her. The alpha was grunting lowly now at every sweep of Lexa’s gentle fist down her length and before Lexa could think of holding herself back she bent to lick off the bead of pre-cum at Clarke’s crown before it could drip off and join the mess that stained her palms and let her glide easily over Clarke’s cock.

It was actually quite sweet.

“Mmn.”

She tasted like—pineapples and salt. Like summers Lexa had enjoyed as a child…the beaches her mother would take her to.

…

…

 _“Fuck—_ Lexa—oh my god.”

It was a mistake to glance down: those lustful black pupils and Lexa’s full mouth sucking the head of her cock. _God_ was it soft. God did the pressure and wet suction feel like heaven. Lexa’s mouth was her own heaven on earth.

Clarke passed a hand through the girl’s hair—the same hand she’d just fucked her with. The thought was wholly gratifying for her. She’d never felt possession like this. She wasn’t a possessive alpha. She never _got_ any of that crap and had always thought she was the most beta alpha she’d ever met but—she felt about Lexa just like she felt about her crew of misfits. _Hers._ She’d protect this girl. She’d give her everything. And _god,_ she’d give her _anything_ if she just kept—

As if on cue Lexa wound her tongue around the bulbous crown of her cock and another wave of pre-come erupted from it into the omega’s mouth. Her swollen lips formed a seal around it, and sucked.

“Fuck, _fuck_.”

Lexa’s tongue laid flat against the underside of her shaft as she forced more of Clarke into her throat; stroking what she couldn’t in her fist. So far she could only take about a third of Clarke’s dick in her mouth, but it was the best that third of her dick had ever felt.

_Too good—god, she’s too much._

Her orgasm twisted low in her belly—just barely managing to warn her body with the usual signals (limbs coiling tight, heart hammering, pleasure pulsing intensely from a knot that was already forming—up against Lexa’s lips from the girl’s efforts; still taking more and more of Clarke in her throat).

_Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god._

Clarke wasn’t prepared for this. At most she’d thought she’d get a handjob to keep her up while she drove (as if she’d have a problem with that, with _Lexa_ in heat right next to her). She never for a second thought the girl would use her mouth. Everything about it was too much.

She couldn’t take any more.

She pushed gently against Lexa’s forehead and spit the words bitterly out of her mouth, “Lexa stop. I’m coming.”

The omega ignored Clarke’s weak attempts at stopping her, wrapping her warm fist around Clarke’s knot as she sucked, and squeezing it lightly; rubbing her thumb gently in circles over the underside.

Clarke bit her lip till it stung and her mouth tasted traces of copper, “Please Lexa, I said I’m _coming_. I swear. I’m coming _right now_. Oh my god! Fuck! _Lexa_!”

Lexa’s head bobbed suddenly upwards and for one awful second Clarke thought she was finally heeding her warnings, but the girl’s plush mouth stayed latched to her tip as Clarke prepared to come and in a second Clarke understood (the thought more than anything else the catalyst for her ultimate loss of control)— _Lexa liked the taste_. The omega hummed around her head on cue, and sucked even as Clarke erupted hot jets; her thighs twitching, her hips shaking.

She grabbed her dick at the space between where Lexa’s hand massaged her knot and her mouth sucked, jerking it a few times to be sure to give Lexa as much as she could as her cock unloaded.

…

…

Lexa led Clarke into her house by the arm; trying not to whine at the look on the blonde’s face—openly hungry, bordering feral.

She liked the feeling of Clarke stalking behind her, bright eyes fixed to the lines of ink gracing a line down her back (Lexa wore a long-sleeved mini dress that was actually backless and she assumed it must be the first glimpse Clarke was getting of her tattoo).

The alpha quickly caught up; ducking her head between Lexa’s neck and shoulder; nuzzling her grinning face into it and laying warm, light kisses where she could.

Until they reached Lexa’s bedroom.

Clarke broke off to whisper how she wanted Lexa naked; tugging at her own overalls and boxers (which had fallen to about mid-thigh as she walked) and finally lifting her t-shirt off her body.

Lexa whirled around to face her. Clarke was beautiful.

She realized then that the girl’s cock was just in proportion; Clarke simply had an amazing body—thick, strong thighs, and soft, round breasts; capable arms that would soon be wrapped around her, holding her close as Clarke pumped into her.

The whine that broke out of her chest was pitiful but—she had to admit; everything was already for the taking.

She reached her arms behind her neck to unclasp her dress and tug it off; thumbs hooking onto the waistband of her black lace panties along the way, to save time. To please Clarke faster. Finally, she pulled at the front-clasp of her bra. And she was at once nude and vulnerable in front of Clarke who was equally that way. For seconds, they merely watched each other; eyes roving the soft planes of their bodies, gently. Until Lexa’s heat became too insistent; the air between them too thick, electric with something.

Lexa swallowed hard and asked her, “Do you want me on my back or bent over on my knees?”

It was maybe too forward. Lexa didn’t care. She was past being shy—even as her cheeks burned at the question, her eyes were pleading with Clarke’s.

A dark look on the alpha’s face preceded a curse and menacing growl as she stalked forward (one hand, Lexa noted dazedly, pumping at her stiff cock).

Lexa’s eyes slipped closed as Clarke drew so near they shared the same breath. The girl’s hand cradled the back of her sparsely braided hair; forcing Lexa to dip her head closer—until their lips met in a chaste kiss.

…

…

_This is so different._

It wasn’t the first time tonight Clarke was overwhelmed with the feeling. She pushed it down; kissing Lexa’s soft mouth like she was drinking from it—as if she thought a taste would make the craving stop.

She grabbed Lexa’s face and spoke against her lips, “Get on your back for me.”

Lexa’s earlier question had galvanized a heavy pulsing all through her body.

_It’s never been like this._

She watched as Lexa got into position, her legs spread; her pupils blacker—presenting herself for Clarke. It was a gift.

“Good girl, Lexa.”

Her omega purred and a drop of pre-come pearled on her tip in response.

It felt odd—not to be reaching for a condom. She’d never done this unprotected.

She settled over Lexa; sighing as their skin came into contact. Her body slid over Lexa’s slick, lithe frame. She grabbed her cock, poised over the omega’s split thighs; her sweet, open pussy, and ran its length over the mewling girl’s wet slit.

“Fuck,” her cock gave a sharp twitch; hot pulsing pleasure causing its head to soak—soak Lexa in her pre-cum. Possession made her spine tense hotly again. She twisted her bulbous tip into the girl experimentally; Lexa’s tight entrance resisting slightly. It was hard, but Clarke pushed in with a single, measured movement—slow. Letting Lexa’s cum coat her before she shoved the inches in.

It was a very tight fit ( _for an omega who claimed I was average),_ Clarke thought, smirking as she closed the last few inches before her knot. She paused there; grinding her hips down into Lexa’s so the girl could feel its hard swell on her clit; unfurling her lips and teasing the edges of her full entrance.

She was rewarded with a sharp hiss and nails slicing down her back as she picked up her rhythm; rolling into Lexa’s slight hips with force, but not too fast to hurt her. She only wanted the omega’s pleasure ( _all her pleasure_ ).

Lexa had a look on her face like she hadn’t expected it and it made Clarke’s veins pump even hotter with blood. She was lightheaded again.

“Give it to me Clarke,” Lexa croaked, after minutes of Clarke’s hard, diligent strokes, “I need it. _Please._ Give it to me, Clarke.”

“ _What_ ,” the alpha barked back, “Give you what?”

She wanted to hear it. From Lexa’s sweet, swollen mouth.

“Your knot!”

“ _Fuck!”_ It was all Clarke needed to hear to start pushing it in, with purpose; canting her hips down into Lexa’s. Looking down, she wasn’t sure she even could. Her knot had never looked so huge to her.

At least Lexa was wet—truly flooding them as she squirmed under Clarke’s weight and gyrated her hips up to try to stretch over Clarke’s knot.

_Oh god!_

Clarke couldn’t breathe as it started to slide in; barely, by millimeters but steadily—until half of the sphere disappeared inside her.

Incredulity and pleasure like she’d never felt thrummed down Clarke’s body—her spirit—as she popped fully into Lexa.

_Oh my god._

She stared down at the girl in wonder—captivated by the ferocity in her black eyes.

_What is she doing to me?_

Was it because it was the first time she’d ever hit anything raw? So she was going at it like an animal. Was it because Clarke got to knot her, come inside her? She was doing stuff she’d never done before so maybe that’s why it felt like it’d never felt before.

Lexa’s pussy throbbed around her—taking all of her. Taking Clarke like it were some undeniable truth that the alpha was hers.

Her hips started to move as her walls contracted and Clarke felt on the verge of passing out as she tried to match the girl’s rhythm without coming instantaneously.

“Fuck! Lexa!”

The rhythm all changed. They were colliding—truly smashing against each other. No pattern, just reckless animalistic pleasure.

Clarke grabbed Lexa’s firm hips in an effort to slow her down.

_How is she taking me so deep? How does that little pussy take me so, so deep._

Pleasure coiled hot in her belly as her hand lost itself in Lexa’s thick, braided locks.

The girl’s neck snapped back.

And Clarke nearly took her. She held herself back just as her teeth grazed that tempting golden column. Everything in her body protested as she turned her head into Lexa’s neck—she knew…if she mated this omega without consent she’d be on the floor in less than 3 seconds. And this woman definitely didn’t want her for that. She was barely even her choice for a donor.

Lexa stroked her back soothingly; almost in gratitude, and arched her body as she finally came—snapping her neck back once more as if Clarke weren’t being tested enough.

She raked a thumb down Lexa’s cheekbone, briefly wondering what this kid they were making might look like; as emerald swirled back into those pretty irises; as she finally let herself pour into the omega beneath her, spasms rocking her body as she filled the girl to swelling.

 


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is your epilogue guys! I just want to thank you so much, also, for all the kudos and reviews. I was blown away! Originally, I hadn't even thought I would take the story further but you guys gave so much love I was just super stoked to write more. So thank you! I think I'll actually end up doing a small series on this like I'd mentioned before. Soon as I figure out what to name it...suggestions?
> 
> PS the full chapter is in Clarke's POV

_..._

_..._

_Lexa’s face the next morning was like sunshine; her smile beaming as their eyes met._

_Clarke hadn’t slept, watching her obsessively through the night, then nearly choking on the sight of her waking expression._

_She’d agreed to stay for the full length of the omega’s heat (to ensure pregnancy—of course), and she let the thought roll around in her head then; her grin matching Lexa’s._

_She wanted this to stretch until forever. She wished Lexa’s skin would never again grow cool under her hands; that she would never stop pinning Clarke to the bed; that she would never stop going too fast; never stop riding Clarke like Clarke was hers, just—never_ stop _._

…

But suddenly.

As Clarke fucked into her with reckless abandon, she could almost feel time closing in. It had been a week—quite a long heat, and Clarke had been optimistic that her wish of forever was maybe not so farfetched. Was _granted_. Shit, maybe God was real. And Lexa’s wet heat could stay wrapped around her knot for all time; never letting her go. They were whole like this.

It was sublime pleasure—the thought.

But Clarke should have known—life had taught her—nothing good lasts very long at all. Nothing good ever stays or ever requests _her_ to.

And as she could feel Lexa coming again—brilliantly, but nowhere near the levels of desperation she’d spent the week watching her sink to—Clarke _knew_. It was over.

The alpha’s heart sank miserably to her stomach even as she loved every shaking spasm Lexa wreaked on her length. A feeling she’d grown probably far too familiar with.

(She’d grown probably too familiar with _all_ of this).

Only now—Lexa’s eyes were no longer black with need and fury. They were a hazy emerald Clarke wanted on her palette; like mist over a bright green field. Her eyes drank everything in—attempting to memorize the details; the colors.

And Clarke couldn’t control herself at this abrupt threat of an ending.

Her heart raced; protesting everything.

Then, of course, Lexa’s neck snapped back and Clarke bit at her own lip; growling. Logic told her it was simply in an omega’s biology. And _no shit, Sherlock._ But what about her _own_ biology? Possession was screeching down her veins like fast cars through traffic lanes; not really heeding any of the signs they zoomed by.

It made her heady, and irrational. It made her bite at Lexa’s pulse with near to no control.

Her mouth latched onto the girl’s fair neck and with everything in her she wanted to lay _claim_ but knew she couldn’t. So she sunk her teeth in as deep as she dared to but broke off with a resentful cry and a final look at Lexa’s angelic features. One stray tear trembled from heartbreakingly fretful eyes as the omega asked, in a broken whisper, “Did you—did you break the skin? It feels like—”

Clarke’s whole body (but especially her heart) seized with _cold;_ her sweating form still hunched over Lexa’s. It turned some soft part of her very hard and bitter to see that the thought of their creating a mating bond distressed Lexa so deeply.

She chuckled joylessly. Really, it was a hollow breath spit from her lips to land on Lexa’s face, “You’re—you’re crying ‘cause you think I?— _No_. No I didn’t break the skin, Lexa.”

“That wasn’t why—”

Clarke watched her wipe the salt off her own cheek with a shaking palm and could no longer stand to be so close. She hadn’t even noticed herself coming yet she was soft enough to slide out, so she did; wincing as Lexa yelped but still so _hurt_ by her _,_ “So don’t worry about it. I’m not—some _pup_ you know? I can control myself. _You’re_ the one that keeps—”

“Clarke—”

“Just forget it.”

Clarke was getting up from the bed, away from Lexa’s warm, nude body; a scowl fixed on her face. She dressed, and tried to remind herself: _I shouldn’t be angry_ as she pulled her t-shirt on inside-out without caring even once she’d noticed.

_I shouldn’t be angry. I shouldn’t. Be. Angry._

Lexa simply didn’t want a mate. Or—she simply didn’t find Clarke suitable for that (and really—she only got to have sex with Lexa in the first place because she’d been lucky enough to be in the woman’s company during her heat). Clarke was just the nearest available alpha. And if Lexa’s heat had been on time in the first place, Clarke wouldn’t have even gotten the _chance._

Lexa would have passed on her as planned and gone on to the next prospect. Clarke would have gone home and brushed this whole thing off as some odd adventure. A free meal with a very pretty, very esoteric omega.

They weren’t even anything more than just…a series of unlikely events strung together asymmetrically.

So why did Clarke feel so hung up and anxious? So strange?

“ _Damn_ it,” her clitoris complained as she pulled up her overalls for the first time in seven heavenly days—no underwear, tight denim, and it had never been as sore after a mating as this. No omega had ever _used_ her like this. Lexa rode her like Clarke was her warhorse and they were late to battle.

And _that_ had to be the only reason she felt this way.

_Because why else?_

“Clarke.”

The omega’s dulcet voice struck her as it always did (deep in the chambers of her fluttering heart) and Clarke sighed deeply, “ _What_?”

Lexa was silent. Clarke followed her solemn gaze to the night-table, on top of which was laid a small stack of papers.

They had been there all along; Clarke’s gaze had roved over them once or twice without ever really taking note.

“I was supposed to have you sign—before we—” Lexa ducked her head nervously; one thumbnail digging into the other, and Clarke turned back to the neat white stack.

She felt something inside her flare hot at the sight of them now, but with a heavy gait walked over. She didn’t bow to any threat. It wasn’t in her nature. She loomed over the documents accusingly; her eyes skimming the text—mired in lawyer-speech. It was really all a heady blur to her.

“This what you want me to sign? You think—what?—I’m out to _screw_ you or something?”

Lexa swallowed, and Clarke got the feeling it wasn’t as easy for her to keep her composure as she wanted Clarke to think.

“Of _course_ you do.”

“You’re a stranger, Clarke.”

Lexa’s voice was soft, and likely meant to soothe her but nothing about those words soothed her.

She wasn’t usually the type of alpha to growl and all that but it rippled incontestably up her throat and in the moment it was satisfying.

And at least that was something. Because, truly, she had _nothing_ in this situation.

“I was just _donating_ , I get it. I’m not—I would never go _after_ you. Or try to take your kid—or—”

Clarke’s sharp jaw clenched; defeat washing suddenly over her exhausted body and she knew then to just be quiet. Lexa’s eyes had started to water again and that wasn’t the reaction that she wanted. Truly, she never wanted to see the woman cry. Especially over something she'd said.

Thinking about it made her stomach drop. She sighed and signed the papers (in quite a _few_ spots, she was supposed to). Every swish of the pen across the page made her flinch slightly, “ _There_. I think I got all the—I think I got them all.”

It was a clipped reply. She didn’t know why she felt cheated suddenly but the feeling was certainly tempered by the fact she had no right to feel it.

She tried not to look back at Lexa, and failed. She let the emerald glare pierce through her heart once more, before turning away.

…

_—7 years later—_

…

A phone call.


End file.
